When the Bridge Breaks: Notes from an Educator Who Crossed Over

By Nadine Smith

For most of my life, I was shaped by public education.

I believed in it — its promise of access, its ability to lift entire families, its place as the great equalizer. I truly believed that with enough heart, structure, and accountability, we could make it work for every child. But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

The cracks I used to patch and defend started to look different — not like problems to fix, but signs of something deeper. And when I discovered homeschooling, unschooling, and microschools, everything I thought I knew about learning began to come apart.

It wasn’t rebellion. It was revelation. My faith in children and teachers never wavered.What changed was where I placed it — no longer in the system, but in the people themselves.

The Two Worlds I’ve Known

I didn’t know it then, but I was already standing with one foot in each world.

In public education, I learned discipline, resilience, and the quiet heroism of educators who hold entire communities together with love and tape.

They are not the villains of this story.They are the heartbeat of it.

But I also saw the exhaustion — the paperwork that replaced purpose, the meetings that muted innovation, the data that distorted joy.

I watched incredible teachers forced to color inside lines drawn decades ago.

Then I crossed into the world of self-directed learning, and it was like breathing again.

Here, children build their own paths.

Learning labs hum with curiosity.

A student might study marine biology after a beach trip or discover ratios while baking bread.

The day bends around the learner, not the other way around.

It’s messy, deeply human, and real.

Once you see that, you can’t unsee it.And once you know better, you start trying to imagine what could happen if both worlds ever met.

The Space Between

I’ve spent years trying to bridge these worlds — to prove that structure and freedom don’t have to cancel each other out.Sometimes I’ve been misunderstood.Sometimes I’ve been invited to sit at tables that weren’t ready for what I had to say.And sometimes, I’ve had to pause and learn from a distance.

I wasn’t trying to tear anything down.I was trying to stretch it — to see if it could hold more humanity, more creativity, more room for kids to become who they really are.

And maybe I just needed to step to the edge for a while, to see what else was possible.

I’m learning that transformation doesn’t always happen from the inside.Sometimes it starts on the fringe, in the small spaces that dare to imagine something different.

What I’m Learning on This Side

I don’t stand in the middle anymore, but I haven’t turned my back either.

These days, I’m rooted in the world of microschools and learning labs, spaces where curiosity leads and kids grow by doing, reflecting, and belonging.

It’s not perfect. It’s small, brave, and constantly becoming.But it’s honest. It’s real.

Here, education looks more like community. It looks like girls learning science through cooking, like math that shows up in entrepreneurship, like self-direction that grows confidence instead of fear.

Next fall, we’ll open two new Gathering Place Learning Lab locations in South Florida — Delray and West Pembroke Pines. We’ll stay tiny and nimble, rooted in community and guided by curiosity. But I’m not done with the larger system. How could I be?That’s still where most of our kids are. I want to learn from this side, build from this side, and one day bring it all back — not to fit into the old structure, but to reimagine what learning could look like for every child. I’m not closing the door.I’m standing here, studying what’s on the other side of it.

What Remains True

I’ve been pushed away.I’ve been misunderstood.Maybe sometimes, I’ve even earned it.

But I’m still here — loving kids, creating something new, believing we can do better.

Not out of bitterness, but out of love — for what was, for what could be, and for the people still showing up every day to teach and lead with heart.

Not to prove a point, but to protect my peace, my purpose, and the possibility that education can still be love made visible.

Even though the bridge cracked, I believe it can be rebuilt stronger —if we’re willing to listen, to learn, and to meet each other in the middle again. Maybe breaking the bridge was the only way to find freedom for me, and maybe for what education can still become.

Nadine “Adjoa” Smith is an educator, founder, and learning designer who builds spaces where curiosity and community come alive. She leads The Gathering Place Learning Lab, a girl-centered microschool in South Florida that blends self-directed learning, emotional growth, and real-world exploration. The Gathering Place is not a traditional school. It is a learning lab where education feels human, purposeful, and free